We Here Abandon

Thou art no sun ascending, no great light,

but merely darkness leaving—all the rags

of deadened moons in stony sleep removed

as columns of the journey’s spine are passed.

 

And in the curling ghost amid the night—

whose voice was stolen, and her lungs burnt black

by all the breaths of silence she withdrew

into the sparkling void in whom collapse

 

the towers craning everything to sky,

and in so doing leaving all the land

such that I, too, wert left to grieve my doom

—this worship of her pain my soul entraps.

 

Thus have I given her to rage and flight

from all I have to all I long and lack.

The birth, the burning of her wings is soon:

Enchanting you with her, I have relapsed.

07/10/2015

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Endless Writer © Ata Zargarof 2018

atazargarof@gmail.com

BC, Canada